Spoilers
by K.Henderson
Summary: Stiles met Derek when he was sixteen in the woods with Scott, but this was not Derek's first meeting with Stiles. Derek was fifteen when he met seventeen year old Stiles during the summer of 2004. With a vortex manipulator the duo go through time and space ensuring 11 is where and when he's supposed to be. Fixed timelines are hard to deal with when you can't change a damn thing.
1. A Boy and his Wolf

**Spoilers**

_An AU, a crossover and a ramble._

* * *

He finds out why Derek treats him the way he does when he is seventeen. It's always been pure frustration, agitation with a side of something he sees when Derek pushes him against walls or slams him against his own jeep. It's like there is something Derek is always on the presuppose of saying something that is exceedingly important. When he mentions this to Scott he's brushed off. He is thinking entirely too much about nothing. Derek is like that with everyone.

So Stiles just tucks away that slight bit of curiosity and life goes on in a way that has become normal. Danger, near death experiences, hunters with code issues, werewolves who want to rule everything. Life goes on and every adventure always begins with or includes Derek shoving him against something and glaring at Stiles to protect him. As though Stiles should already know when danger is coming and to be fully capable of rescuing himself. Like a hunter who isn't a hunter.

He doesn't get it but life goes on and Stiles just goes with it. Eventually Derek has to slam him against things and save him less and less until one day, he doesn't have to at all. He looks immensely pleased and pats Stiles on the back after a particularly hard tumble with a wraith.

He mutters 'almost' to Stiles, leaving the teen baffled and confused as he grins and stalks back towards the house like he's taking a normal midnight stroll. Through the dark dank woods. Covered in blood.

_Almost_ for what? This is what Stiles wants to ask and he does, later on. He's seated on the hood of his jeep staring at Derek whose face is hidden half by shadow hardly discernible in the moonlight slivers that part through the tall tree tops. 'Can you please explain this to me?'

'Spoilers.' Derek says and the tone means that the topic is closed and no answers will be given.

Stiles did not squawk indignantly, he did not tumble off of the jeeps hood and try to grab at Derek's wrist. He didn't.

But he wanted to.

'Spoilers? Seriously who _says_ that?'

Seven weeks, seven days and seven hours later (he didn't keep the weeks/date/time. This was told to him later on) is when something major happened. Something that would change Stiles's life.

He meets a woman in town. She's a little older with red hair, a set expression on her pretty round face and a deep Scottish accent-not quite a burr or it might be. Stiles had never met anyone with a Scottish accent before so he couldn't tell if she burred or not.

The woman's name comes much later, after she manhandles him out of his own vehicle. He's pulled by her impressively strong hands, grip air tight. He stares forlorn at his empty jeep. Driver door pulled opened and empty, and he wonders how his father will deal with his disappearance; Jeep abandoned at the corner store, door opened with key in the ignition.

All signs point to **Badly**.

He realizes later as he is being pushed into what is probably going to be a very tight space, that he could have pulled away from her at any time. He's not incredibly strong, not like the wolves or hunters but he's enough. Stiles could have pulled away from her, run at any time. But he hadn't, she said he wouldn't run from her because he had to trust.

'You have got to trust in this. Trust in me.' She said and instantly he did trust her. It was an inevitability. A fact.

The space wasn't small and tight like he'd imagined it would be from the outside, all blue and tall with Police Box printed on it in white (oh the sweet irony.) Its large and reminds him of yellowed ceramic and gold. He walks down a ramp towards a strange podium with even stranger attachments and wonders if he's fallen asleep. Especially when he sees a man with floppy hair and bow tie grinning at him. The grin should be comforting, its goofy enough and kind, but Stiles doesn't feel all that assured in that grin. That grin spells ulterior motives.

'Seven weeks, seven days and seven hours! How about seven years?'

Floppy hair, boy tie, large grin calls himself The Doctor. Its his name, has been for a long long time, he assure Stiles. He tells him about the police box, or Time and Relative Dimension in Space (Tardis) and his adventures. He tells Stiles things he isn't sure he's supposed to know (but it turned out alright, The Doctor assures him.)

He asks the cliché question the why me and is answered with a warm smile;

'It has to be you. It's always you Anaxagoras.'

This is how he finds himself with a brown leather wrist strap (called a vortex manipulator) instructions on how to use it (he'd been shown how to use it to exhaustion, but the instructions were really nice to fall back on) and dropped off in the summer or 2004. Seven years into his past, to be precise.

He's been given instructions, told why he had to do this (fixed point in time Stiles, it's a fixed point in time!) He isn't happy about it he really isn't. The only silver lining is that he knows where he's supposed to go and when. Knows that once he's finished that he can go back to his own time.

It's all in the wrist strap. The coordinates are set to timer and will take him there whether he likes it or not and while he knew that there were things he'd have to do and that he was given enough information to get by along with a wallet with plain white paper and a weird screwdriver (a much older version of The Doctor's but it would work fine) he was still a bit nervous.

Because he's standing in front of the Hale house a year before its supposed to go up in flames and he been sworn not to mention what will happen to it in a year. Sworn to let it happen because that was also a fixed point in time, that it had to happen.

Derek is fifteen and slight for his age. All stringy awkward limbs and not as tall as Stiles. He's standing on the front porch staring at the stranger with a mix of fascination and horror. Stiles had just appeared with a snap on the grounds in front of the house. Derek is alone (the paper tells him) and somehow Stiles has to convince Derek to join him on his adventures throughout time and the known universe.

He introduces himself as Anaxagoras and answers as many questions as he can, truthfully (they are all written down and answered for Stiles on another slip of paper tucked into the pocket of his new leather jacket) and smiles as much as he can without appearing like some sort of crazy stranger or a threat.

Derek is still a werewolf, didn't matter that he was so obviously Beta and small in comparison to what he will become in the future.

Derek calls the vortex manipulator 'awesome' and fiddles with the screwdriver just once (its hard on his ears) before he asks Stiles, again, why he's decided to drop in on Beacon Hills the 'most boring place to seriously ever exist.'

There is the opening he's been waiting for and he's excited and terrified. Because this is it, the beginning of something crucial. He has to do this just right or everything is over.

He smiles down at Derek. Fifteen year old Derek whose glassy colored eyes are wide and trusting, his young face unblemished by the brooding intensity that will eclipse it within a year. Stiles lifts his hand in offering, the wrist strap (as he calls it) blips once the timer counting down. Departure in 10...9...8...

'Come with me.'

...7...6

'Where?'

...5...4

'Anywhere.'

...3...2

'Okay.'

Derek grasps Stiles hand tightly, afraid that he's made some sort of mistake.

...1

'Almost.' Stiles tells him before a flash of colors that could neither be described or named flood their vision and the sensation of being pulled apart overtakes and they're gone from 2004 all together.

_It_ answers everything once Stiles has enough time to think, that Derek must have known this was going to happen from the beginning. They land in 1869 in France. There is a woman waiting for them, tough as nails with light-colored curls and a grin like a cat caught the canary. She introduces herself as River Song and the three of them, together, travel worlds and different times with the intended purpose of making sure The Doctor gets himself to where he needs to be so that the universe doesn't collapse.

'Your initial time lines are out of sync.' River says to Stiles one night in the New Roman Empire. 'Youre first meeting with him was obviously not his first meeting with you.'

'This is crazy.' Stiles tells her. He recalls his first meeting with Derek. Tall and dark, looming in the distance wearing a leather jackets and a bland expression on his handsome jaded face.

Meeting out of sync. Derek is fifteen when he meets seventeen year old Stiles for the first time. They have their adventures for an entire summer, saving The Doctor behind the scenes without being seen. They've gotten to know River Song without knowing too much about her at all and they've nearly been killed by aliens that look like giant pepper shakers, toy robot men and an assortment of other creepy crawlys to last either of them a life time.

And yet Stiles is sixteen years old when he first meets 23-year-old Derek Hale, a werewolf. He has small adventures with Derek and Scott and the others. There was the Kanima and Alpha packs and Peter Hale and Hunters. Its poultry in comparison. For Stiles, Beacon Hills seems like a cake walk.

Daleks, Cybermen, meeting with Torchwood. Derek fits in well enough but Stiles always felt a sense of foreboding around the Captain only to be made perfectly sound in 1965 when Britain is threatened by a super flu.

He can't say he will ever forgive Jack over what happened next and often times he wonders if any are left alive, the orphans that Stiles couldn't save. Wasn't supposed to save. Derek doesn't know much about it not yet anyway. Fifteen year old Derek is happy to look around and bond with Captain Jack Harkness until its time to go.

He wonders if Derek in the future knows the truth about it and decides that when he and past Derek are returned to their own time lines, that he will ask him.

River is with them sometimes times, most times and when she isn't it's because she can't be. Stiles and Derek visit Space Florida, Barcelona (the planet) and had even taken care of a few of the noseless dogs.

Sometimes, when they don't have anything important to do when there is free time to roam to their heart's content, waiting for River to come back to them, Stiles and Derek will go back to Earth and visit different times. Sometimes they did dangerous things.

Like Stiles meeting his mother when she was seven years old and nothing but large brown eyes and bright brown curls. This had led to Derek meeting his pack before he had been born (obviously.) Derek in the future is an intimidating Alpha, Peter had been a very crazy Alpha. The two had nothing on Derek's grandfather however. Elijah Hale was a hulking figure built of rippling muscle and blazing dark green eyes who did not take kindly to the young cub in his territory (Derek had been more excited and curious than Stiles, who had been terrified.)

It was on holiday in Spain (Stiles says holiday now instead of vacation and it isn't changing soon) when he and Derek meet Donna Noble. The name strikes a chord, a name mentioned once before by The Doctor on the Tardis, but before Stiles can even begin to try to remember why the name was important there were Cybermen everywhere and Stiles had to keep himself and Derek safe.

It's later as he and Derek watch River Song prepare for a mission in what she calls The Library, that Stiles remembers Donna Noble.

'Donna Noble? She is the most important woman in all of creation.' River answers as she ties back her hair. She leans towards him and whispers into his ear, a secret that she knows that Derek can hear. Its important, very important.

They promise never to repeat her words until the _time_ comes. She makes them promise and trusts them to keep it.

'See you soon.' She says and then is gone.

They both know that this will be the last time they see their River Song.

Stiles wants to follow, wants to get there before she makes it and somehow find a way to save her, even if he knows he isn't supposed to.

'Anaxagoras, we can't save her.' Derek says in a voice that is too close to matching the voice of Derek in the future. 'If it isn't in the coordinates than that means its fixed. We...aren't meant to save her.'

And that is that. Derek and Stiles never see their River Song again.

Its like loosing his mother again, Stiles thinks as a panic attack overtakes him. It's the moment, the exact moment that it happens. He can feel it. Derek can feel it. You don't travel through space and time, through to different worlds with someone and not form a special sort of connection, a bond that's always there until it isn't.

He only wonders how he will deal with the end of their journey, when he has to go back to the future without warning Derek about Kate, without trying to save the Hale family.

But it has to happen. It is a fixed point in time.

Stiles hates fixed points in time.

They meet Rose Tyler once. To make sure she got to Henrik's on time to meet The Doctor when she was supposed to. It was passing and quick, but she'd smiled at both on her way into the store and Derek was essentially heart struck.

They make sure that things happen the way they should; the living plastic, Mickey, meeting Clive Finch, the Nestene Consciousness... Stiles is reminded of Kate when he looks at Rose and that disturbs him. Both are strong and blond and undeniably attractive in their roughness. But Rose Tyler is/was/will be a bona-fide hero while Kate Argent is/was/will be a bona-fide killer.

He damns himself and The Doctor once he realizes what they've done. Meeting Rose for that one fleeting moment had cemented a certain _type_ of woman Derek would be attracted to.

Anaxagoras John Stilinski just made a murdering pyromaniacs seduction job on a sixteen year old boy a helluva lot easier.

By the time he hears the familiar whoosh of the Tardis, Stiles feels a hundred years older than what he is (still seventeen) and wiser beyond what he should be. Derek seems more or less prepared for the future and says that 'one does not simply go into the future and not pay attention to certain events.'

This will later crop up in how Derek is able to afford living without working after the fire, after Laura dies and after Peter comes back. He wins the Powerball by cheating. Sneaky, Stiles thinks later on, but smart.

Aboard the Tardis alone with The Doctor and Derek is a jumble of excitement. He's curious in a way that Derek in the future never is and something in Stiles hurts because of what is going to happen.

'It's the price I have to pay, isn't it?' He later asks The Doctor. Derek is sitting in the Tardis doorway staring out into space while Stiles and The Doctor watch from the control panel. This is a Derek that Stiles had become close with, a Derek that Stiles will never get to see again after this.

He feels responsible for Derek's wellbeing and the immense guilt weighs heavily on his heart. River Song died in The Library and Derek, only fifteen years old, accepted the fact that they could not save her despite having the means to do it. Derek was strong.

'He's stronger than you give him credit for.' The Doctor says as though he can read Stiles' mind. Maybe he can.

'He's going to hate me.' Stiles says. 'He's going to hate us both.'

The Doctor doesn't say anything but it's plainly written in his expression that_ 'yes he will hate us'_ and_ 'yes, we deserve it.'_

It's dark when the Tardis materializes on the Hale grounds, just an hour after Stiles and Derek had started their journey if the time on his pocket watch (a gift from Franciszek Czapek in 1876) is anything to go by.

Goodbye's are always sad. It doesn't matter that Stiles assure Derek that he will see him again without question. Derek is still a clingy mess, sad to be rid of Stiles and of adventure.

'But what if you _need_ me?' Derek asks.

'Well, it's a good thing I know where to find you Derek. I promise.' Stiles says and means it truthfully instead of placating an emotional teenage boy. He takes off his leather jacket, new when he'd purchased it, and places it on Derek's shoulders. 'I'll be seeing you soon.'

"'Anaxagoras...thank you.'

He's going to miss _this_ Derek.

Its strange in the Tardis with The Doctor. Strange and surreal and empty without the constant weight of Derek in his presence always a constant. He wonders how things will be after he gets back to his own time, if he can attach himself to Derek in the way they'd been attached this summer.

The Doctor is quiet and fidgeting with the controls taking Stiles back to July of 2011. There's something else going on too. Stiles isn't stupid, he knows when someone is not saying something important.

He asks The Doctor what he's hiding.

'Oh this and that. Things yet to be, you know how it is.' The Doctor says offhandedly in a way that he must think Stiles understands.

He does.

'So something is going to happen that I can't know _yet_.'

'You had to prepare him for something that has and has not happened yet. Something that will set a fixed point into my timeline. A decision he convinces me to make.' The Doctor looks old, his eyes are vast as he looks at Stiles. 'It really did have to be you.'

The Tardis doors open and Stiles sees his jeep, driver door still opened, in the distance. He wonders how long he's been gone and imagines its been barely five minutes and he's glad. Someone would have noticed the abandoned jeep after a few hours.

He walks down the ramp, half way there he pauses and turns back to The Doctor and says;

'You could have saved her.'

The Doctor nods and says;

'I know. You could have saved them.'

The Hale's. Stiles could have saved the Hale's, could have stopped Kate and saved Derek from her seduction from the pain that he would experience the loss. He could have saved Peter from his madness and from killing Laura, if only he would have stopped Kate.

He could have and yet...he wasn't supposed to.

'I know.' He says to The Doctor. 'I _know_.'

And he's gone. Out of the Tardis and back into his jeep and down the road back home, despite the fact that he really wants to drive to the burned out house to see Derek, he's tired. He's so tired.

He walks through the door happy that the house is empty. Trudging to the kitchen he opens the refrigerator and takes out the carton of milk. He sits on the counter, drinking the milk straight from the carton letting his eyes roam over the kitchen he hadn't seen in three months (or a year-he remembered the year that never was. So did that technically make him eighteen?)

Stiles hadn't seen Scott in three months, hadn't seen his dad in three months. He felt nothing at this. Didn't know how to feel about the time that had elapsed in the last moment he remembered seeing them both before he'd left 2011.

Empty was a word he could use. Numb.

He capped the milk carton and placed it in the refrigerator. He'd call for take away instead of cook-his dad could cheat on his diet once at least.

Let him live all out because you only live once.

Like River.

He makes his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. Falls into a heap on his bed and lets himself grieve all over again, not just for River Song but for all of the other people he could not save. For the Hale's. For his mother. For Derek. Because past Derek might as well be dead. Future/current Derek was nothing like him at all.

It's a few hours later that Derek crawls in through Stiles bedroom window wearing the leather jacket he always wears. It the same leather jacket Stiles had met him in during both 2011 and 2004 respectively. Stiles jacket.

'Anaxagoras, huh?' Derek leans against the wall by the window. 'It gets better with time.' He says like he knows what Stiles is thinking.

'I could have stopped it. All of it.'

'Yeah, you could have.' Derek nods. "And reality, time itself would die. You know that Stiles. You remember that.'

'Yeah well, pterodactyl flying in the park is a very small price to pay for saving your family. I could deal with that.'

'Then Dickens' plays would repeat forever and you know how old they got. They were almost essentially the same!'

Derek is laughing. Stiles wonders if the apocalypse is happening. Again.

That thought sends him back into more guilt. Trapping the Master (vampire) in a sewer just to make sure that a teenage girl would have to 'die' in order to free him just to kill him anyway (it's complicated) this was not Stiles finest moment.

'But Cleopatra and Caesar were so much fun weren't they?'

'No. They really weren't.' Derek grouses remembering a rather awkward moment back in 47 BC that he'd rather not speak about (triumphal procession on the Nile in the spring. Not his finest moment.) He shudders. 'I'd rather not repeat that, thanks. Besides The Doctor would see it coming before you managed to do anything.'

'As if I could.' Stiles groans.

'Actually,' Derek nears the bed and after a moment he sits beside Stile's horizontal body. He taps Stiles wrist. 'You can try if you wanted. See?'

The vortex manipulator is fixed tightly on Stiles wrist like a second skin. He would never have noticed it there had Derek not said a word. He sits up and flips the leather covering up and stares at the buttons and the screen.

'He didn't take it.'

'He didn't take it.' Derek says reaching into the inner pocket of the jacket and pulling out-

'The sonic screwdriver! You kept it?'

Stiles could have sworn that River had taken it with her to the library. He remembered handing it to her when she asked for it over dinner. But there it was in Derek's hand.

'Wait. If you've had it for the past seven years...you've never used it?'

Derek tucks it back into his pocket with a glare. Like Stiles is missing the obvious.

'The first time you were meant to see the screwdriver was the first time you met The Doctor. Had I shown it to you before you would have known something was up the moment you'd have met him. It might have made you cause up a fuss or something. Besides, how the hell was I going to explain an advanced piece of alien technology to a bunch of teenagers without disrupting the timeline in some way?'

A valid point.

'So you've had it all this time?'

'I have.'

'And you've known. From the very beginning about me and you and...everything?'

Derek nods at ease. Pleased that it's all out there. He lays back against Stiles' too small bed, a giant against the covers. 'The day I saw you in the woods with Scott. I had to keep a distance, had to tell myself to wait. I knew immediately that I couldn't say anything to you I couldn't let myself.' He rubbed his eyes with his large palms. 'It took everything in me not to call you by your name, like I knew you. I mean I _knew _you. You just didn't _know_ me yet.'

There's a pause and Stiles forgets to be a little floored by the confession because Derek's eyes are closed and he's listening for something. Somehow he looks like Stile's Derek, the one that laughed and was gangly and awkward and in love for a day with Rose Tyler. Which had made Stiles jealous for reasons he wouldn't allow himself to admit.

Because he'd known he'd have to say goodbye to that Derek eventually and come back to current Derek who didn't like him at all and probably hated him.

Though it didn't seem like he hated him at all and so he did something that he'd wanted to do countless times during that summer (and once during the year that never was) so he leaned down and kissed him.

Derek made a surprised rumble in his throat, lifting himself into the kiss. He placed a large warm hand against Stiles neck, pulling him closer, holding him so close that Stiles ended up half on top of him.

They parted and Derek grinned.

'Seven years and worth it.'

'What?'

'I've waited seven years for that kiss. First you seemed too old for me and then you were too young for me and afraid of me.' Derek pulls himself up and leans against the pillows, pulling Stiles against him. 'This is nice'

'Derek I don't want to alarm you, but your personality is showing.'

There's laughter and its nice like before and Stiles never wants this to change, hopes it never will. But it does eventually end. It goes back to the beginning.

A long time ago and far away an older different Doctor and an older Derek watch as a star burns out completely. There is nothing left of what had been, no trace of the former life giving world or the people there nor of those who wished to attack it. It is black space, empty and cold. They watch and know it had to be done, The Doctor grieves. Too many losses. Derek watches the darkness and feels cold and numb.

He feels nothing but the crumbling of his heart.

* * *

**Muse: Yeah...don't ask. I was just bored and sick and had nothing else to do and my brain is leaked out so I couldn't update anything. This though, as rambling and weird as it was, actually makes me proud. I always liked the idea of a crossover of Wolf and Who where Stiles and Derek meet out of sync. I took that and rambled. I might update with their actual adventures later if I can think them up. Review not flames, like I said before. Rambling and sick. Its weird and rambly. Sorry for that.**


	2. The Curtain Closes

**The Curtain Closes**

.~.

* * *

There is a man sitting on a bench just outside of New York city. He's hunched over himself with a yellowed piece of paper in his hand and he is sobbing. Of course this was always meant to happen, this was the inevitable end to the adventure. Did it have to be this hard? Did it have to be so _final_?

It has been a little over a year since Derek has gotten _his_ Anaxagoras back. A little over a year and _finally_ Stiles is 18. A little over a year and the burnt out remains of his house has been bulldozed and leveled. There is nothing there but an empty plot and Derek has never been happier to say goodbye to painful memories or more aware of the finality the house being gone meant. Moving on.

The alpha pack, rogue hunters and Gerard have all been dealt with and now there is only peace. Derek can be the Alpha his sister would be proud of. He could deal with Peter had whatever his schemes-though it seems that he is content in just being alive. Derek Hale's life is finally going normal as can be expected and it is all thanks to a madman in a blue box.

"Why are you here?"

"I paid my respects and decided to see you."

"Respects? Did you know them? Was it during..._that_ time?"

"Yeah. Yeah it was."

That time. The time the Doctor couldn't be there for them, the time after they'd been sent back and had lived their lives together without him. That is what _That Time_ meant.

"How did you know to find them?"

Derek shrugs, it is an alien feeling. Shrugging like a normal twenty four year old man without the world on his shoulders. Its a Stiles_ism_. "Purely accidental on my part." Derek answer truthfully.

It was purely accidental. Of course it was, Derek had never thought in a million years that he would run into Rory and Amelia Williams in New York back _then_. "I didn't realize it until..."

_Until Amy cried._ Tiny little old Amy Pond with withered hands and white hair had cried once she'd realized who he was, though they'd never met before (he'd seen her, knew who she was but had never had the pleasure in being properly introduced.)

_'Oh its out of sync, you see. Not yet, you wont understand.'_

He doesn't say this to the Doctor doesn't want to give him hope. Because it can't happen. Stiles had explained why and Derek more than understood fixed points in time (he understood that more than he would have liked to. Yet..._still_...he tried to find some sort of loop hole.

After seeing them like that, Derek had all but thrown the wrist strap at Anaxagoras when he returned to the proper timeline (to be specific, Derek had just returned from 1930's New York to Stiles, who already knew this was going to happen. But later on that will be explained-maybe.)

He vowed never to mess with wrist strap by himself again. They'd never told him why they were in New York during that time, never made mention as to how long. Though Derek could tell it had been a long long while by the state of their very well lived in home.

Best not to say anything specific.

"It _just_ happened for you, didn't it?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Derek nods and takes a seat beside the Doctor. He wants to be better at this, maybe put an arm around him maybe give a few words of encouragement, but he can't because he's Derek Hale and completely awful at this -_Jackson_ would be better at this. Derek can't bring himself to try anything so instead, he just sits beside the Doctor on the bench, letting his warmth seep into him. Hoping that it might be enough.

"I never thanked you." Derek says. "About Stiles."

"No need." The Doctor says after a beat, he's still bent over himself only now, he's staring at the space between his feet hand still clutching the paper. "It was always supposed to happen. It was a fixed point."

"Still," Derek rolls the sleeves of his green sweater up to his elbows and turns his head up to the sky, allowing the sun to warm his face. "thank you."

"This is a very inappropriate time to thank me for getting you two together. It really is."

"It really isn't." Derek says. "If there is one thing I've learned from any of this, is that the adventure always ends. Its hard, it's just happened for you it's still fresh but at least there was a goodbye. No one died Doctor. Well, no one died _young_." He sighs. "They lived a long life. They had adventures, they had you and when they didn't-couldn't have you anymore they were able to move on."

"Why are you telling me this?" The Doctor asks but does not look up, does not straighten his posture. He really wants to ask _how_ he knew to be here at all but doesn't quite know how to get it out. "Why are you here Derek?"

"Because Doctor, it was all in the coordinates." He lifts his wrist where the damned vortex manipulator is. There had been a letter left by River the day he'd returned home in 2004. Along with the screw driver there had been the letter detailing this event. Not in full but this date, this time. 'Please go to him for me,' the letter had said. How could Derek say no to his River? He'd never been able to do it before. "I hadn't wanted to be the one to use this, it makes me uneasy. But it had to be me."

"And what are you here for?"

"I don't know." Derek said honestly. "My River just said to be here, this date, this time and this place."

"_Your_ River."

"The one that's already dead or who will die." Derek says with a uncomfortable clench in his heart. "How could I refuse a dead woman's wish especially River Song?"

"You can't."

"Exactly."

They sat in companionable silence for five minutes, neither looking at each other or speaking. The Doctor sat up and stretched while Derek tipped his head forward and yawned. Five minutes of complete and total silence between them, comforting and warm was all they were to have, apparently When the Doctor turned towards Derek to speak- he didn't know what he would say- the young man was gone.

He didn't say thank you (there was no one there to thank and, obviously, the Doctor was _not_ going to whisper thanks to air.) The Doctor stood, tucked the paper into his pocket and walked away.

* * *

**Muse: Ah...I was filled with all of the feelings. Wrote this. Next up I'm hoping for some Captain Jack meets Stiles again (in the appropriate timeline) but I'm not entirely sure how that would work out. Another ramble, sorry about that. Still trying to get a grip on these characters.**


	3. The Curious little Beta

**_Curious Scott. The Curious little Beta._**

**_Note: _Mostly_ dialogue._**

* * *

**~.~**

"Don't you think it's pretty?"

"What?"

"The way the dust catches, see? Allison says it's like little bits stardust caught in the sun."

"..._Vashta Nerada_."

"What?"

"Where there's _meat_ there's Vashta Nerada. They're everywhere you know. The dust specks in the beams of sunlight."

"I think I liked it better when you were incapable of speech."

"You're mad? Why?"

"Because you ruined a perfectly good conversation starter by making things up."

"_Who_ said I was making things up?"

"Wait, so its real?"

"Very. See, _this_ is why I'm not talkative. Everyone takes what I have to say the wrong way."

"Well sorry if every time you open your mouth its either thinly veiled threats of nonsensical nonsense."

"Nonsense? It's not nonsense it's education. Remember the graphs?"

"You drew giant salt shakers that were supposedly dangerous and real. How is that not nonsense?"

"...I really cannot _wait_ the two in a half years its gonna take for me to say I told you so."

"Oh, so what? You've been to the future, now?"

"...it's complicated."

Sometimes conversations with Derek was like pulling teeth. Not that it had ever been easy talking with him, Derek had the sort of people skills that serial killers emanated. What with that the personal space issues and the intense eye glare and growl. Yet, after one summer's day in 2011, Derek Hale's personality took a turn for the strange. The weird. The down right _curious_.

No one else seemed to understand how it happened or why, but somehow Derek Hale, brooder extraordinaire had developed a personality. A weird one.

"I don't understand him half the time his mouth opens." Scott grumbles into his sandwich, taking a bite and near eviscerating it. "Cybermen, Daleks, Ood...what kind of a weird Sci-fi acid trip is he on anyway?"

"Couldn't say." Stiles shrugs. "Do you notice...how weird he's been acting lately?"

"_Obviously_ (weren't you listening?) But what do _you _mean?"

"He...looks at me a lot- _no_ dude! Stop with that face, that's the poop face! It's not like that."

"Okay. So, if he doesn't look at you like _that_ but looks at you _a lot_, what does it mean? You think he's gonna eat you or something?"

"Not funny. Not funny at all."

"What? It's a little funny. It's a joke."

"Not a joke if he can literally eat me if he wanted."

"Oh...yeah...forgot."

Stiles licks his lips and leans forward, perfectly aware that Jackson and Issac can hear him anyway despite being seated at opposite ends of the food court. The mall is overly crowded and heavily populated and loud, but Stiles is certain that his voice carries easily to the wolves ears.

"It's like he's waiting for something. Last week with the wraith, remember?"

"The one time you _actually_ managed to protect yourself like a bad-ass? Of course I remember." Scott grins. "What about it?"

"Well, he smiled at me with relief and said 'almost' and pat me on the back like he was congratulating me." Stiles shakes his head as the fingers of his left had toy with the straw still in his empty Styrofoam cup. "When I asked what he meant all he said was 'spoilers.' Who even says that?"

"I told you he was being weird."

"I wonder what he meant. Whatever, doesn't matter." He stands up and gives Scott a grin. "I'll let you and the other's get back to your puppy bonding at the mall."

"It's cool. See you tomorrow."

"Can't wait."

Of course Stiles did see Scott that night. Three months (and a year that never happened) later. By then Stiles would already understand Derek's strange new founded personality and of course, he would have grown into his own. Scott, for his part would still find himself confused later on...well, at least until the winter of 2013 when the Daleks invaded California (for reasons that the Doctor will explain when he finds the patience to deal with a pack of teen wolves.)

"You can say it, you know." Scott dodges a well aimed attack, the robotic screetch of **EXTERMINATE** rings throughout the woods as the wolves run. "I know you want to!"

Derek Hale, his Alpha grins roguishly.

"Well if you already know what I'm going to say...then _where's_ the fun?"

* * *

**~.~**

**Muse: Prequel and _sequel _to the first chapter. This takes place the day Stiles meets the Doctor, goes to 2004 and makes 15 year old Derek his companion. Also, Derek's comment at the Vashta Nerada was inspired by a tumblr post. Which inspired the rest of this. God, I love Tumblr. Review please. Reviews make me happy (and tell me that the story isn't awful.)**


	4. The First Avenger

**The _First _Avenger**

**_Muse: Quick and probably inaccurate in terms of 40's slang (like two words but still.)_**

* * *

**~.~**

It's the crash that always comes as a surprise to Stiles, like he can't understand how after all this time the Doctor is incapable of properly flying the Tardis. Then again, and if he listens to whatever Derek would say in this situation as truth, the Tardis manages herself while merely taking hints from the Doctor when she feels like it. Stiles doesn't really understand how the Tardis is alive, but she is. Derek says you can almost hear the beat of her heart if you listen closely and if you're lucky enough to have supernatural hearing.

He collects himself from the cold steel floor and wobbles towards the control panel where the Doctor, who had managed not to fall over in the crash, smiles brightly. "We're here!"

"Yay." Stiles mumbles. "But where is here, exactly?"

"New York 1940-" The Doctor looks into the pseudo television screen for the appropriate details but Stiles can care less about the specific date. It's the 40's which is incredibly exciting and its New York.

The last time Stiles had been in New York it had been for his Great Aunt Helen's birthday. He'd found the city filthy and cloistered wondering how so many people can live in one place and not find themselves rushing out into the world. While it had been nice, all the lights and places to go to keep yourself occupied, to Stiles it had felt so far removed from home as he could get. New York in his time was an alien place. Maybe New York in 1940-something would make his opinion of the place better.

He changes, gets laughed at because he looks like a newspaper boy complete with hat ("News boy caps are cool.") and with the Doctor leaves the safety of the Tardis in a filthy alleyway. He can smell the rot of the trash and can taste the damp in the cold bitter air-

-and there is a small boy being beaten up by a grown man. The kid isn't backing down, hardly breaks a sweat and there is determination in his blue eyes, something Stiles has seen before and is very familiar with.

He steps forward, is pulled back and glares at the Doctor.

"Fixed point." He says just before a man dressed in uniform punches the aggressor. The boy-who Stiles realizes is a small grown man, takes the uniformed army officers hand and grins. "Now, before they notice us..."

New York in the 40's is better than Stiles could have ever imagined. He wonders about the vortex manipulator he's left at home with Derek. He'll bring the overgrown pup with him next time, have a date in old Manhattan. Derek would fit just fine.

He's in Hell Kitchen (he loves that name, Hells Kitchen just sounds so...so dangerous!) when he sees the small man again. He's got a fat lip and a bit of a bruise blooming at his jaw but otherwise, he's as right as rain. Someone who is obviously used to getting tossed around.

He grins at the guy and introduces himself (because, _hello_, kindred spirit anyone?)

"Hey, I uh...I saw what happened back there in the alley." He sticks his hand out as soon as he's in front of the guy. "That was awful. I should have done something."

"It's fine." Small guy winces but takes Stiles proffered hand anyway. "Ankle-biter like me needs to cream someone every once in a while."

They both laugh at the joke and its nice. Stiles thinks that maybe he's making a friend out of this person who seems so incredibly small and frail and yet has such personality.

He hears the Doctor call for him and he knows it's time to go. Oh well, he thinks, at least I can come back. Maybe I'll see this guy again.

"Crap gotta go. Oh! Yeah, rude of me not to introduce myself properly before. I'm Stiles by the way, Stiles Stilinski." Stiles grins. "And you are?" It would be a lot easier to drop in on the 40's to see this guy again if he gets a name.

"Steve Rogers. Well I guess I'll see you around."

Stiles isn't sure if he's still breathing or if he's in complete shock. After Steve's gone Stiles has to all but stumble towards the Doctor, whom he hands off of for dear life. "Was that...that was..."

"Yes."

"Oh my God..!"

"Steve Rogers, hell of a man when I met him."

"But thats...you know him...when?"

"2012. May I think."

"That was...oh my God that was Captain America!" Stiles stares at his hand, the one which he used to shake Steve's and he feels automatic electricity. He wonders how long he can go without washing it.

"It certainly was."

Later, back home, Stiles will rifle through his father old boxes, things his dad hadn't been able to part with from the grandparents place. There is a scrapbook with old cards, collectors edition pristine and mint-Steve Rogers is in full uniform as far removed from the tiny body he'd worn when he and Stiles met.

He smiles brightly, dresses in his best jeans and shirt, plucks his news boys hat off the bed. The vortex manipulator has never seemed so cool now that Stiles has somewhere he feels he needs to be.

It's a week before Steve Rogers will be enlisted and a while before he's given the experimental serum which will transform his body. It's a longer while before he become the infamous Captain America.

Before all this however, Steve Rogers finds himself bumping into Stiles again and inviting him out for a drink.

* * *

**~.~**

**Muse: ...what the heck did I just write. No excuse for this at all. Sorry!**


	5. The Impossible Future

_**The Impossible Future**_

_**Muse: The Feels people...the **_**feels**

* * *

_**~.~**_

He doesn't have a specific name or title. He isn't known as Master or Doctor. He is merely himself, a person whose been given the weight of four whole worlds (and a few galaxies worth) of responsibility thrust upon him. And he's mostly alone. Well, that's not quite right he isn't alone he's just without the person he wants most. Emotionally he is alone.

Derek Hale leans against the door frame of the Tardis and stares out into the stars. Behind him, Jackson Whittmore fiddles with the controls taking extra care to read the instructions with Scott McCall. Issac Lahey leans against the guard rail tossing a foam football up in the air and catching it. It's the four of them now. Everyone else is gone.

It's hard to believe that Stiles is gone. He isn't exactly where Stiles is or when. He wonders if he's dead, if he'd been killed the nice way, the polite way. Weeping Angels, Derek thinks, are worse than anything he has ever faced and there is nothing the Doctor can do.

Because the Doctor is gone and Derek and the others are looking, always looking. Although Derek wonders if the Doctor wants to be found, if he wants the Tardis if he _wants _the life back.

If Derek finds him and begs for his help...he isn't sure what the Doctor would do, depending on the particular Doctor he finds. Early incarnations of the Doctor had looked at Derek with disdain and disgust, sadness and shame. Derek had never understood before but after it happened after the war...

He knows now, knows why the eleventh incarnation had told Stiles that it had to be him. Stiles had made Derek strong as a boy and the adventure had ingrained in him the rules. Once it is written in stone, once you know its supposed to happen you cannot change it. You _cannot_ change a fixed point in time no matter how much you want to. Not for loved ones (his family, River, Stiles and Lydia) not for the betterment of the world.

And he hates that he knows this. Hates that this is what his life has now become. Derek Hale, age 35. With his rag-tag of companions-his pack, he scours the universe and time itself looking for his Doctor, trying to find some way to find Stiles and to rescue the others if he can. If it's allowed.

"Hey, I think we've got something!" Jackson calls from the control panel. He's grinning from ear to ear and Scott, whose hair is newly buzz cut rubs at his new stubbly head with an agitated hand. "I think we got something."

"What is it?" Issac has tossed the foam ball aside and now leans over Jackson and Scott's shoulders to peer at the screen. He groans, obviously disappointed at whatever it is he's seen. "Oh. _Oh_ seriously?"

"What is it?"

"We need to refuel." Scott says. "And apparently _Jackson_ has decided to take us to Cardiff."

"I _hate_ Cardiff." Issac mutters.

"You hate _everything_."

Derek wonders why he's decided to take his pack when all they can do is either stare longingly at each other (on Issac's part because Scott, despite being over his first and only love Allison has somehow missed the fact that Issac is desperately in love with him) or continuously argue with one another over absolutely nothing (Jackson is the prissiest person Derek has ever in his life met, prissier than his sister had ever been and more argumentative than Peter.) But when he wonders how it would have been, in the Tardis by himself, he knows that the loneliness would have driven him to madness.

"So, off to Cardiff?" He asks, stepping back inside and shutting the door securely. "Is there nowhere else we can go, Jackson?"

"Well _nowhere_ half as convenient."

"Someone is totally in love with the Captain." Issac teases.

"Sorry, but no. I'm more of a ladies man..."

"Toshiko Sato _isn't_ interested and when exactly are we going?" Scott asks. He's sidled close to Issac who preens at the closeness. Scoot, of course, doesn't notice. "Last time we were there it was 2005."

"A week after the last goodbye, I think." Jackson looks up from the controls, all trace of arrogance gone from his handsome face. He eyes Derek for an agonizing moment. "That okay with you, _Alpha_."

He doesn't have a specific name or title. He isn't known as Master or Doctor. He is merely himself, a person whose been given the weight of four whole worlds (and a few galaxies worth) of responsibility thrust upon him. And he's mostly alone. Well, that's not quite right he isn't alone he's just without the person he wants most. Emotionally he is _alone_.

In the universe he's known by some as **The Alpha**. It isn't a name he cares for but its a name that works for now. He doesn't want the universe to know who Derek Hale is. Eventually he wants to go back, wants to live out his life quietly without pasts ghosts from different worlds following him. This is a future he wants with Stiles and his pack, his whole pack (Lydia obviously included.) As soon as he finds the Doctor, as soon as he gets Stiles and Lydia back is when he'll use his name again.

"Sure."

* * *

_**TBC...**_

* * *

**Muse: This is the far future for Derek (he was twenty-three in the latter half of the first chapter) twelve years after the first chapter of the story. Stiles is lost due to Weeping Angels probably, Derek himself isn't so sure. Lydia is also missing. The Doctor is MIA and Derek and his pack are looking for him because...how can the Tardis be without the Doctor. Plus, Derek wants to find Stiles and Lydia and he can't do that without the Doctor who knows everything it seems. Does the first chapter's eerie ending make sense now? How can someone fly the Tardis who isn't River and the Doctor? With proper instructions, apparently. **

**But how did Derek manage to find instructions? I liked his new title best and of course, it was also for a bit of a laugh because when he did the whole "I'm the Alpha now," line the first time I laughed and laughed because he seemed so proud to be Alpha in the show. But now its a sort of code name that he'll hang up once he's gotten Stiles and Lydia back and finds the Doctor. At this point he can't be Derek Hale, for the aforementioned reasons he listed at the end of the chapter. BTW, Jackson was out of character because of something that will come up and it definitely has something to do with Cardiff (no he and Jack do not hook up!) And if anyone was offended by Issac being in love with Scott, then I'm sorry but its a ship I sail (and one that seems like it might actually be plausible.) About if you're wondering what happened to Allison? Well, wait and see.**

**This is a To Be Continued because this chapter will be continued. So keep an eye out. And for those confused all the chapters are out-of-order for a reason, so bear with me. Hope you liked this!**


	6. The Weeping Angels of Beacon Hills

_**The Weeping Angels of Beacon Hills (Part 1)**_

_**Disclaimer: characters and creatures not mine**_

* * *

**~.~**

"**Don't blink**!" Derek shouts as he shields Issac, Boyd and Erica with his body, powerful arms opened wide as though to welcome the gray pieces of concrete into his arms. "You hear me?"

Erica snorts and crosses her arms. She's trying to look cool, trying to cover up the intense urge to turn around and flee.

"They're statues." She says. "What's the harm?"

"The _harm_," Boyd answers plainly. "is that they weren't here when we all left this morning."

"Yeah." Issac agrees peering over Derek's shoulder into the face of on of the statues. "They could be booby-trapped or something."

"Why is that one smiling?"

"Don't _blink_." Derek says, panicked. "Don't _turn_ your backs to them don't take your _eyes_ off of them. Do you understand?"

"Clear as crystal." Erica answers. "So...if we all just inch our way towards the right-_the right Issac, the other way!_ Okay so we'll carefully inch our way towards the door to the right and escape the weird angel statues. This is, by the way, ridiculous."

"What are they?"

"Angels." Derek answers plainly. "Weeping Angels. Don't be fooled by their appearance and for the love of Christ do not blink."

The small group inch their way towards the opened door. Erica nearly stumbles twice, Boyd grabs her hand and holds tightly as his eyes focus on the angel statues. Issac nearly blinks, his eyes burn and water but he doesn't.

"What are they?" Issac asks. "And don't say _Weeping Angels don't blink._ I want to know what they are and why they seem to be...alive."

The door is closer, Derek can see the sun setting in his peripheral vision, jagged in the distance. He wants to close his eyes, wants to give himself a moment to think. Instead he widens his burning eyes and decides to answer.

_Truthfully_.

"They're known for dropping their victims into the past and letting them live to death. A species of quantum-locked humanoids from the early universe, they're called 'Weeping Angels' because their nature necessitated that they often covered their faces to prevent trapping themselves in stone forever."

"...so they're _aliens_?" Boyd's question comes out louder than what he would have liked, but he can't quite hold the panic rising in his chest. "You're kidding, right?"

Because, werewolves and other supernatural creepy crawlies? Yeah, okay. Boyd can believe in that (obviously). But Aliens? No way.

"You aren't serious."

"_Deadly_ serious. I've seen it happen." Derek answers. "You understand?"

"Getting sent into the past to live out your life and die doesn't sound that bad." Erica's voice shakes. "Not so bad at all if you think about it." She squeezes Boyd's hand.

"They've also been known to kill in other ways. Such as _snapping _their victims' necks. You see why I said not to blink?" He growls at the blond. "So bad. Very, **very** bad."

They make it outside. The air is crisp for May and the breeze that licks at their overheated skin makes the wolves shiver. Fright, the newly formed pack (the former humans anyway) is not something that can go away once you've received the bite.

Erica's eyes close and with her fingers she massages her lids. Beneath her finger tips she can feel the crumble of mascara and gritty makeup. "Oh Gawd! My makeup!"

"Well," Boyd, in a similar state but without fear of looking like a raccoon, chortles his girlfriend. "if you stopped _caking_ yourself with makeup you wouldn't be in that mess."

"It's not caking at least not my entire face. Just my eyes. I need my eyeliner!"

"No, you really don't." Boyd opens his burning eyes and blinks a few times. His vision is met with blurred Issac leaning against a blurry black oblong shape- Derek's Camaro. "My eyes hurt like hell."

"You're telling me." Issac blinks hard once and then opens his eyes, letting them focus until the blurry fuzzy figures before him take their usual forms of Boyd, Erica and Derek. "Derek...where the hell did those things come from and why are they in our place?"

"I don't know." Derek shakes his head, eyes already clear but red. "Damn it. I swear that if that _idiot_ had anything to do with this..."

"What?" Erica's eyes open and she looks as comically confused as Boyd had figured she would, kohl liner rubbed all over and under her eyes. "What idiot? Is it Stiles?"

"Not this time." Derek says half heartedly. His eyes have returned to the same glassy green-blue and have focused on a blue box in the distance. He tosses Boyd his keys and begins to walk towards the box. "Take my car. I don't know where you'll go tonight but don't split up. Whatever you do."

"Where are you going? Derek, did keeping your eyes opened do something to you? You _never_ let anyone drive the Camaro!" Issac shouts after him.

"It's a check up, that's all. Besides, I have to make sure to get rid of those things and really, _none_ of you are even remotely prepared."

"What do you mean a check up? Now is not the time for a check up we've gotta get out of here together." Boyd says.

"Yeah, and whats in there anyway? You gonna try to fit those things in that tiny box? They wont fit. Unless its_ bigger on the inside_."

Derek laughs loudly like Erica has made some sort of ironic joke.

"Now you're getting somewhere. I'll be fine. _Go_."

"But what about you?"

"Like I said. I've got a Doctor to visit." Derek stops in front of the blue box. He extends his hands and touches the wood carefully like he's familiar with the thing. None of the others can understand what it means for Derek to see it- she's as beautiful and as blue as he can remember. Seven years had not diminished her deep and vibrant blue.

"Doctor?" Erica shouts from across the distance. She sounds near scandalized. "Doctor who?"

* * *

**~.~**

**TBC**

**Muse: Inspired and bored. I'll finish it up later when I have the time. Anyway, sorry for the leaving it how I did. I'll get back to it I promise.**


	7. A Woman named Jones

_**A Woman named Jones**_

_**Note: Not to fear- Weeping Angels of Beacon Hills Part 2 will be uploaded soon. In the mean time, enjoy a little bit of filter (it isn't filter actually this is pretty damn important.)**_

* * *

**~.~**

He slides up beside the woman in the white coat. A doctor and small and beautiful, she looks out the window and seemingly sees past what her vision allows as though she sees through time itself. It's a laugh and he chuckles as the woman straightens her bun. She has seen time and space and a year that never happened not long ago for her but a lifetime ago for him.

Stiles, age 25, places his hands on her shoulders and gives them a squeeze. She relaxes automatically, trusting him.

"Martha Jones." He says in a voice that carries none of the hysterical boyish charm it did when they first met. "As I _live_ and breathe."

"Live and breathe, that's rich." Martha says as she turns her back to the window and stares up at the boy (the man) she thought she'd never see again. "I heard you were gone."

Her voice lowers, nurses and doctors and patients walking passed them. They are easily swallowed up by the crowd easily ignored.

"Yeah?"

"The angels. Derek Hale, older than I thought I would ever get to see him came in through my bedroom window and told me that you were gone not two months ago."

"Yeah. " Stiles laughs, its rich and hollow all at once. "_Gone_."

"Any particular reason why he thinks you've been sent off by the weeping angels? You're right as rain apparently and right _now_."

"Fixed point Martha." He says. "Anyway, I was hoping to spend a day with you, if you aren't, you know. Being a busy _Doctor_ or _Unit_ person or, you know, _you_."

"Are you flirting with me Anaxagoras?"

"Well maybe a little. But I'm holding back since you're a married woman now."

"What? I'm not married."

"Oh...too soon I see. Way too soon."

"I'm not asking. At all."

"Yeah, best that you don't. Might make you reconsider all your future life choices."

* * *

**~.~**

"So is he handsome?" Martha, dressed casually in jeans and red strapless top, sucks on her slice of lemon before dropping it on her plate. "This husband of mine?"

She sips at her drink, her dark eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass. From across the small table Stiles groans into his mug.

"Ugly as _sin_." He answers. "All warts around here," he motions at his face. "and the breath? _Ugh!_ Horrible...but he's got the sweetest disposition and oh so meek and shy. So, all in all you two make the handsomest couple to ever marry."

"So he's moderately attractive, hot-headed and maybe a bit daft."

"You're good."

"I know. So, An, what are you _really_ doing here?"

There is a silent lull and Stiles sips his beer slowly. Its bitter and he's never been a fan of alcohol, but today is a special day. It's the kind of day when you drink and drink and never stop being thirsty. "Does there ever have to be a reason Martha. Can't it be that I just really missed you?"

"No. It is sad to say, that with certainty that it is not." She leans back. She isn't drunk. Martha has always been good at pacing herself never going past a few cocktails (two) or three beers or four shots...

He has missed her. Spending a year together saving each other's asses from near and certain death did things to people. Created bonds that would never ever be undone no matter what timeline or world you're living in.

But she's right.

He hadn't missed her enough to show up at her work. If he had, Stiles would have seen her immediately after returning to his time. He could have called and dealt with Mickey. Could have dealt with being questioned over and over again about why he still sounded so young despite the years that had passed since they'd last seen one another.

"Everything has its time and everything dies Martha. Even me."

"Dying? You're going to die?"

He breathes out of his nose, takes a deep gulp and finishes off the mug. He looks to the waitress and gestures towards his empty mug. Another, he will need another to properly explain himself to her. He needs to. That's why he's here.

"Soon, **very **soon I will find myself in 1941 during the blitz. I'll burn." He says. "But before it happens right before that happens, Martha, you've got to be there to pull him out."

"Derek?"

"Yeah...damn it. I waved at the waitress didn't I? She saw me right?" He waves frantically at the blond from across the bar. She sees him and twitches just so. "Yeah, hey, can I have another? Really need that other been otherwise I might end up too sober to over tip you."

"You're going to die and you want me to pull Derek out of the fray instead of save you?"

"Well yeah. But you have to remain unseen by anyone but me. And Derek. Obviously. I don't want him to see it happen to me." The waitress places another heavy mug filled to the brim in front of Stiles who picks it up and has another long sip. He winks at the over tired woman as she saunters off. "Otherwise he'll have to see it happen and smell it happen-you know werewolves. They've got this over _sensory_ _thing_ going on. Could you imagine how my burning flesh will smell to him? Ugh. Gross! Now I'm thinking about it."

"But you're going to die."

"Yeah."

"And you're not going to stop it? You're going to let it happen-wait, isn't this bad then? Telling me?"

"Not in the least." He says. "I have to tell you. You have to know. That's just how it works."

"And the angels?"

"Oh, they'll get me. Otherwise how am I gonna end up when I'm supposed to."

She shakes her head. It isn't in her right now to grieve or to beg him not to do this. She knows how it goes. It's that song and dance. Fixed points in time and space is what the Doctor called them.

"I wont do it." She says anyway. Martha knows she'll do whats she asked, knows that she is essentially sending off an old friend to die a horrible and painful death. But she has to say it anyway, has to hope that she can change this even if she knows it cannot be done. "I refuse. This isn't you! The Anaxagoras I know would never, in a million years allow himself to die."

"But it is me Martha. You know its me." He says.

"No. No this isn't you. You'd never let yourself die like this. Besides, time can probably be rewritten. Just look for the Doctor. You're being a coward if you roll over like this when he can save you. When he can change it."

"No he can't!" Stiles slams his hands on the table sending his full mug teetering towards the edge. Brown fluid runs through the spidery cracks of the glass as she waitress rushes over to clean up the mess.

"An-"

"Martha. Please. This is me. All that counts is here and now and I'm asking you to make sure that Derek doesn't go up in the blast with me. Call it cowardice if you want but damn it, its important that this happens. There's a kid who goes up in the blast and something is going to happen to this boy, something that will set a con-man on the right path with the Doctor. Do you get that?"

"But why me?" She asks. "Why?"

He shows her his wrist and grins.

"Is that?"

"You always were a quick study Martha. You'll figure out how to use it with this," He slides a piece of paper across the table towards her. He undoes the wrist strap and places it in front of her beside her empty glass. "In five minutes I'm going to get up and walk out of the pub. I'm going to call a cab and take it to Baker Street. In one hour, use that."

"Alright. Okay. I will but can I ask one question?"

"Shoot."

"Baker street? Is that where the weeping angel is?"

"Yeah and besides," he mulls over the question and grins. "I've got this friend I haven't quite met yet, that I've gotta leave something with." He plucks a letter out of the pocket of his leather jacket and peers at the curling script and chuckles at what's written there.

_ 'River,'_ He thinks,_ 'has always had a way with words even if they are final.'_

"Whats written there?"

"Spoilers."

* * *

**~.~**

_**Muse: And here I am setting up the major point for **_**The Impossible Future (Chapter 5)**_** plus there was a tiny inconsequential bit of Sherlock thrown in there. I'm just gonna say now, I am a SuperWhoVengerLock fan. I've already got the Who (Obviously) and we've seen the Venger (Captain America) and now it's time for the Lock (Baker Street.)**_

_**The Super(natural) will be coming soon along with the continuation of**_** The Weeping Angels of Beacon Hills part 2**_**. I'll finish that one up as soon as I'm able and hopefully without any kinks. Hope this was to your liking and please review. I love reviews. They make me happy.**_

_**No flames though. I don't like flames.**_


	8. The Empty Child

**_The Empty Child_**

_Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. I don't get anything monetary out of this. _

* * *

**~.~**

Benny didn't much care for small towns. Small towns meant that people learned his face and voice, remembered his mannerisms and picked up on the fact that there was something wrong about him, something unnatural.

Small town folk, Benny knew, picked up on the different natured much more easily than big city folk. It came down to the simple fact that in a small town everyone knows everyone, and everyone takes close attention to get to know anyone who appears new.

And if what seems new gives off an unsettling vibe, color in the eye drastically different from any color they'd ever seen on a human or maybe their scent is stale-they pick up on the different or maybe their sense of self-preservation kicks in without them knowing it.

The animal in humans wants to find higher ground away from the flood, to burrow themselves away from immediate danger because they sense the predator. And they don't even know it.

Beacon Hills is a small town located in California. There is an abundance of trees and a sparse amount of people, all of whom have seemed friendlier than the times would allow. Its like stepping back into a time where people were genuinely polite. Its almost unnatural. Its different from anything he's seen since he's come back from...that place.

He's rented himself a modest little room in the towns only motel. The old woman behind the counter had genuinely smiled and thanked him for his business as she took his money and handed him his key.

No questions asked when he informed her that no one was to go into his room in the morning. Of course she might have assumed he wanted to lie in. The sun didn't kill him but damn if it wasn't aggravating.

"Now what...are you?"

There is an angel statue in his room standing just to the left side of his bed. The gray stands in stark contrast to the drab browns of the walls and furniture and to the mauve bedspreads. He nears the angel, stands just a foot away from it and peers.

It's alive. He's sure of it.

"What are you...?"

He blinks.

* * *

**~.~**

There's a knock on the door. Sam and Dean jut up from their beds, hands flying to their weapons, instincts kicking in even at four in the morning. They stare through the hazy darkness, the only light pouring into the room through the blue moonlight shinning in through the window.

Dean is nearest the door. He casts Sam a look, indicates with his hand to not move or to be quiet (Sam does both) as he quietly moves off of the bed and walks quietly towards the door.

Whoever knocked is still there. They knock again, three harsh rapt to the door, the sound reverberating through the walls of the tiny motel room.

Dean's hand touches the knobs, he unlocks the door and opens.

Only he's welcomed by nothing. He takes a tentative step outside, holding back the urge to shiver at the sudden breeze. His bare foot hits something. A package.

"What the hell." He plucks the package from the ground and makes a hasty retreat inside the motel room.

Sam is sitting stock still and looks just about ready to behead anything that so much as looks at him funny.

"Package." Dean says as Sam reaches over to the rickety bedside table to get the light on. The bulb casts an orange bright hue.

"Who from?"

"I dunno." Dean says as he lifts the package. There's scrawl written there, Dean's full name (even the detestable middle name he and Sam do not talk about.) "Its...for me." He says hollow toned as he stares at the other name there. One he is _very_ familiar with. "Huh..."

"Who from?" Sam asks again.

"Don't worry about it."

"Think it's safe?"

"Leave it." He answers tossing the package on the small table in the kitchenette area. The contents don't so much as rattle. "Whatever. Look just let's get back to sleep."

"But the package"

"Drop it Sam. Its safe, its fine just leave it."

It's after Sam is asleep that Dean even allows himself to get up and take the package outside. He wonders how Benny had found him. Wonders why the package looks so old so nearly falling apart. He shivers against the cold of the night, already sliding himself into the Impala. His leg dangles out of the car and rests on the cement drive as he stares at the package in silent deliberation.

Dean huffs an annoyed breath, opens the package and finds himself holding an old gas mask in his hand. It's heavy in his hand and the red glass at the right eye is cracked right through the middle. _Weird..._

There is a stack of old black and white photographs which he observes only vaguely, all seem nearly identical. It's all landmarks and blimps in the air and people dressed from a different time. He stops suddenly as his hand touches a piece of flimsy paper-a letter he sees is written in blood.

"Benny, you stupid son of a bitch, what did you do."

* * *

**~.~**

He only blinked and somehow that damn _thing _that damn **angel **had sent him to...well he wasn't sure. There were battlements, the stench of smog and rotted wood and smoke lingered in the air with something else, something dead. Benny reaches into his pocket for his phone but finds his hand comes up with only a wad of cash and keys to the car he'd _borrowed _just that afternoon.

_'Great. Just perfect. I'm stranded somewhere without a phone.'_

"Dean," He lets out a humorless laugh. "let's just hope that _thing _wasn't sent by your angel. Wasn't much of a fan of mine-"

He's being watched. He feels eyes on him, can hear the gravel under its foot as it walks towards him. Impossibly light. He turns around, certain that this person must need his help, at the very least it has got to be either a very small woman or a child lost in the midst of wherever he landed. It's a posh neighborhood turned battlefield.

What he sees has him floored and what he hears...he picks up on how wrong the figure is when it nears him and into the very low light coming from the moon above. He feels how _bad _it is. He stares directly into the glass goggles where the eyes are hidden beneath and he realizes, without cowardice but with a sudden compulsion, how quickly he needs to _flee_.

"_Are you my mummy?_"

It's a young man, freckles at the neck. American. He's an inch or so taller than Benny but young, if the red jumper and converse sneakers are anything to go by. Maybe late teens or early twenties. The gas mask makes the kids voice muffle just a bit but he's sure he heard him right. He's asking for his mother, but the tone is wrong.

He sounds like a very small and frightened child.

"You're mommy?" Benny takes a step back. "Can't say that I am."

The young man takes a step forward and Benny scents the air. The kid smells like sweat, deodorant, laundry detergent and-

_'Wrong.' _His mind supplies. _'This kid smells wrong. Dangerous.'_

"_Are you my mummy_?" The kid walks forward not so much as stumbling over the pieces of debris he is now walking over, completely unaware of his surroundings.

Benny turns tail and runs. Call him a coward for it if you want but something there is something wrong going on.

He sees others with masks as he runs. They stumble through the darkness hands lifted with clawed fingers, shadows playing on the ground as an overhead a siren sings, their voices muffled. Speaking all at once almost lost in the sirens cry.

"_Are you my mummy?_"

* * *

**~.~**

Muse: ...um...Update! With Benny! Review don't hate me and is anyone gonna send me their guesses on who is was Benny saw? Pretty easy to figure out!


	9. A Tale out of Order

_**A Tale out of Order**_

* * *

**~.~**

There is a little girl in a garden. She's sitting on the ground twining bits of grass between her fingers, with an expression of boredom on her pretty little face. Her red hair catches the sunlight streaming downward. She's _waiting_ for something.

"Hey." A boy greets from across the garden standing awkwardly in a leather jacket much too big for his gawky shoulders. His glassy green eyes are friendly and almost familiar.

But Amelia can't quite know why.

In the house, up the stairs, years from now in the _distant_ past, Amy Pond ruffles 23 year old Derek Hale's spiky head and grins down at him, teasingly.

Little Amelia _feels_ the memory of a moment she cannot quite recall.

"Who're you?" Her eyes narrow. Distrustful of this stranger, who can't be more than fifteen.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" The teenager's head tilts to the side in question.

It takes Amelia twenty seconds to consent. She doesn't understand why she trusts him.

"Fine. C'mon."

The boy walks awkwardly towards her slowly, an old book in his left hand. He crouches down and grins.

"Want to hear a story?"

"A story?" Amelia asks, interest piqued.

"Yeah." He says. "It's a really good story. I thought you might like to hear it."

"What's it about?"

"A woman detective. It's...well, it's an incredibly story."

In his large hands, cradling the yellow book, the boy looks sadly down at the pages.

"Why are you really here?" Amelia asks.

"A friend." He says simply. "Asked me to give this book to a very special little girl."

"And you think I'm special. That's rich!" Amelia laughs bitterly because she has never felt special in her entire life. "Are you going to tell me who you are?"

"Hm?" His green eyes slide from the first page to Amelia's. They're watery and sad. Amelia wonders why he's sad at all. "My name?"

"Yes."

"I'm Derek." He answers. "Derek Hale."

"I'm Amelia Pond."

He smiles brightly, sits fully on the ground and crosses his legs as though, now that he hears her name in full, now that she has seemed to trust him enough with her name, that he can now fully relax.

"Your name is like a fairy tale. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Amelia cocks her head to the side, confused.

"I think so. Once."

* * *

**~.~**

**Muse: ...so...updates will begin within the next week or so. Sorry I've been off for a while. I am nowhere near done with this series yet. BTW, where are all the Teenwho lovers on Tumblr. Teenwho is seriously lacking love!**


	10. At the End of Sacrifice

**At the End of Sacrifice**

* * *

_**~.~**_

Derek stares up at the dark sky and on cue he sees millions of falling stars.

No. Not stars. Angels.

He sees the angels falling towards the earth, their grace detaching from their backs like great big wings. Its beautiful and horrible exactly what he needs to see before he starts the Camaros' engine and drives away from the McCall household and Beacon Hills all together.

Isaac and Jackson sleep soundly in the back seat, leaning against one another as Scott rattles off about the impending wasted summer yet, all Derek can think of is the end of the world all over again. The apocalypse a few years ago may have been hindered but it had never truly ended. The Winchester's would always wind up in that garden full of death and roses, Dean Winchester will always die beneath Lucifer's feet. It's a wake up call more than anything. Derek needs to get the ball rolling needs to find the Doctor now before he and the pack are swallowed up by the impending doom fated to befall all over again.

It isn't enough that Derek has seen multiple near Armageddon. He's dealt with the year that never was, the hell mouth opening, the Dark Lord's all before the fire during that summer with Stiles. He knows the way the games does. The hero rising up and saving the day. But _this_ was the true end. The world was going to be swallowed up and Lucifer would somehow be set free from the cage. No matter what the Winchester's would do now would inevitably lead them there. They always wind up at the end of the world and both would die-Dean by Lucifer's hand and Sam from the possession.

"So many stars." Scott stares out the window, eyes opened wide and dreamy as he stares upward. "I've never seen so many falling stars."

"They aren't stars." Derek whispers, mindful of the sleeping teenagers in the back seat. The image of a thousand tiny balls of light seem to smear against the window glass beside him as the car moves on the dark road. "They're angels."

"Angels?" Scott pushes away from the window and stares at Derek. "Like Weeping Angels?"

"No." Derek says. "Well not technically. Not yet." He slows the car to a stop at a red light. It begins to rain. "Somethings happened in heaven and the angels were thrown out of it."

"Thrown out _of_-you mean **those** are all fallen angels?" Scott's brows furrow and his face is nothing but angry shock. He points to the glimmering balls of light in the far distance. "God threw the angels out of heaven?"

"No. I'm sure it was something else that did it. I don't really know much about it."

"Why do you know anything at all?"

"Well I know the bit that I know because I was and am there."

"Are and am? Damn it. Is this another time travel fixed point in time thing? I hate that stuff!" Scott crosses his arms like a petulant child. He really is sick of it, Derek realizes as he eases the car to go one the light turns green. "You're there now. In heaven or something?"

"No. I'm not in heaven, no one human and alive is in heaven." Derek shakes his head. "It's complicated."

"How complicated?"

"Well, for me right now I'm watching it happen from here but, back then I was with Stiles in Cambridge when it happened."

Derek can remember the cold shock, the terror as he watched people falling from the sky and, with a sickening smack of all too familiar flesh and bone, break upon meeting the ground. It's all too horrible, seeing it back then up close the angels falling and dying human without their grace. One of the angels had landed closely, looked at Derek and Stiles like it recognized them.

_Thrown out of heaven_, it said_, the scribe_.

Its happening to a version of himself right now and somehow it makes it worse. Derek wonders again, why the Doctor hadn't tried to stop it. Fixed points in time aside, this was heaven, these were angels. Couldn't the Doctor have done something-anything to help them?

_No._ Derek tells himself. _Otherwise the apocalypse wouldn't start-up again and then the universe would collapse in on itself. I hate fixed points in time._

"Do they have anything to do with us driving out-of-town? Why didn't Boyd come with us?" Scott leans back into his seat, dark eyes straying to the angels falling, his eyes sad.

"Because Boyd...has a destiny." Derek says.

"A destiny? What? Is he gonna be some big time hero?"

_Yes._ Derek doesn't say._ Yes, he's going to save the town once the croatoan spreads. He saves your mother, the sheriff and a good handful of kids. No more than that, but he'll save as many as he can and he'll be a hero._

But the others aren't supposed to be there. Derek knows that much, that he, Scott, Isaac and Jackson are nowhere near Beacon Hills when it happens.

The road is long, lonely and dark. It's only fitting that the black camaro is alone on the road, cloaked like everything else in darkness as the angels fall. The car passes a sign he hardly glances, he's seen it twice already.

Leaving Beacon Hills. Come Back Soon.

_No thanks_, Derek thinks and wonders if he actually means it.

* * *

**So...Supernatural feels in here. The angels are falling, the season finale it's all compliant for the most part. The part about Lucifer and what happened in 2014 well...that is just a bit of a headcanon I have for the series finale (because Kripke might just screw us all over at the final episode of season 10 and as we all know the show ends forever at season 10 or so I hear. Gawd...I can't even...)**

**Also, sorry for taking forever, this one is just super hard to write. Anyway, next we find our four heroes looking for the Doctor. This chapter happens before chapter 5 Impossible Future, obviously. Any chapters here will not be a jumbled mess of timelines. It will follow this one and be consistent. Derek wants to find Stiles and to find Stiles he has to find the Doctor. Boyd was supposed to stay behind because it's all fixed timelines and destiny. Yadda yadda yadda. See you all in the next chapter. No flames please.**


End file.
